


Does it ever stop?

by Swedishlassie



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:01:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24340036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swedishlassie/pseuds/Swedishlassie
Summary: My very first attempt at writing fic. Just a wee oneshot with our favourite couple set around the time spent at Lallybroch first time around. Absolutly no plot, all smut.A whole lot of credit to my betas Anotherplaceintime for amazing edit and suggestions and Bethie my sweet wifey ;) for grammar check etc. You know how I feel. ❤
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 25
Kudos: 135





	Does it ever stop?

She had awoken suddenly. 

A sound had startled her into consciousness; some noise by the door. Her heart began to beat a little faster in anticipation and she had almost gotten out of bed, when she came to the realisation that it was only her husband coming home. From where, she had no idea, nor did she really care. In fact, the only feeling she could muster up when she thought of him was anger. He had probably been out somewhere with Ian and the lads; drinking, playing dice, just boys being boys. She had honestly been quite happy for the solitude tonight, catching up on her reading, journaling, and contemplating the events of the past few days. 

If it wasn’t for the wanting that never stopped. If it wasn’t for the fact that she missed his very presence beside her.

Yes, she was still angry with him, but a part of her longed for him badly. Badly. It had been four days since she last had him. The longest stretch of time they had gone without making love since their wedding night. She ached for his touch. To touch him. For the feel of his weight against her hips, his stubble scratching the delicate skin of her breasts leaving reddened patches on the insides of her thighs, his mouth on her, there...

“Oh God help me,” she had whispered to herself, trying to block those thoughts out, not ready to forgive him just yet. But her body, as always, betrayed her. The mere thought of him, of having him, in any way she could, left her trembling with desire. Envisioning his touch upon her skin made her sex swollen and ready for him, even as she vehemently tried to rid herself of such images. She had eventually fallen into a shallow slumber though, restless and anxious as she was. 

And now, well now she chose to ignore him, feigning sleep, her back to the door and to him. Keeping her eyes tightly shut she lay still, hearing the sound of him undress and eventually, slide into bed beside her. 

Apparently, he was not as drunk as she had anticipated. When he was really out of it, he would stumble into the room with as much grace as an entire horde of elephants, paying no heed to disturbing her slumber as he passed out upon the covers, fully dressed. Tonight though, he was at least a little courteous, conscious enough to make an effort to not wake her, but not quite courteous enough to keep his distance from her. She was wide awake now, but she wasn’t going to let him know it. If she just laid here perfectly still, he would hopefully fall asleep, and then maybe she too could succumb to the deep slumber she craved.

But as she felt him settle himself against her back, all warm and solid and him, she had to concentrate with all her might to not cozy up against his chest, his stomach and... other parts. She could feel her hips twitch as she forced herself to be still, but her heart was thundering like crazy against her ribcage, making it increasingly difficult to control her breathing. 

He buried his face in the unruly locks on her head, as he was wont to do. He was breathing deeply, inhaling the scent of her hair, consuming her. His right arm curved around her waist, his thighs brushing against the back of hers, his hand tightly gripping her shoulder, as if to anchor himself to her. She could feel herself melting against him with each heartbeat, her own, and his, like a steady, comforting drum against her back. 

As always, he slept naked, warm blooded as he was, so there was nothing between their bodies save the thin fabric of her shift. He drew her tighter to him and it was all too clear that he was not unaffected by their closeness, by the feel of her soft body so close to his. Feeling his hard cock pressing against her arse made it almost impossible not to squirm in an effort to feel it closer still. 

He was rocking slowly against her, his restraint wavering with every movement, dangerously close to losing control and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to control herself for much longer either. His fingers traced the shape of her collarbones and then ghosted over the narrow stretch of skin between her breasts, like the feeling of a light feather caressing her, sending shivers down her spine. Not only his touch, but the combination of his hot breath against her neck, his cock, rock solid, grinding impatiently against her arse. She was burning up with desire. 

When he reached one of her nipples, already hard and aching against the fabric of her shift, she came undone and whimpered helplessly, arching her back in surrender. She couldn’t stand this anymore, pretending not to notice what he was doing to her. His strong hot body enfolding her, his cock pressing in between the crack of her arse - “Oh Lord, please help me,” - his hand caressing her breast, pinching her nipple between his roughened fingertips, sending hot jolts of pleasure through her body and straight down between her thighs. 

It was too much.

When he felt her starting to move with him, he let out a low moan from deep in his throat, like he had been bracing himself up until now. She rolled her hips against him, a desperate search for friction, anything to release the unbearable ache deep within her. As she pressed her thighs tightly together in a futile effort to do something about the throbbing at their peak, she could feel the increasing dampness that had them slipping against one another. Her heart was racing, every fiber of her being wanted him to take her, and not be gentle about it.

He trailed his hand down her body, slowly making his way toward the place where she wanted it the most, needed it the most. When his hand finally reached its destination, sliding his fingers in between her slick folds, she whimpered with relief. He grunted against her ear, his voice low and husky. 

“Ye’re so wet, Sassenach... Christ...I dinna think I’ve ever felt you this ready for me...”

She turned her head to kiss him then, tasting his mouth, letting him taste her in turn. They both moaned in tandem, sharing their breath, tongues licking, lips biting, wanting more and more, all the while his fingers worked their magic on her. 

She broke away, gasping for air and smiled, slyly. 

“Well I’ve been waiting and I couldn’t stop thinking about this” she teased, reaching behind her and taking a firm hold of his cock.

Another moan escaped, from whom she didn’t know, as she started to stroke him, gently at first and then more determined. All the while he kept moving his fingers, rubbing them relentlessly up and down her slit, dipping one, two, three fingers inside her tight slick opening only to withdraw and draw teasing circles around her clit. As hard as it was to concentrate on her task, the feel of the silky skin of his cock stretching and giving in as he swelled even more made her own pleasure even greater. It was building fast inside her, making her roll her hips eagerly against his hand, stroking him in time with his touches. It was all too good too fast and when he started to rub her most sensitive spot over and over again, the pleasure flooded her, the strength of her orgasm causing her hips to jerk uncontrollably, and forcing a cry to escape her lips. Through the thick veil of contentment, she heard his voice, low and rough, thick with desire.

“I have to have ye Claire, I cannae wait any longer, please…”

Unable to find the words, she nodded her assent, and in one swift move he was on top of her, his weight pinning her against the sheets. Her shift was rucked up around her waist, her legs wrapping firmly around his, heels digging into his buttocks. He reached down between them, guided himself to her opening and in one steady movement he thrust into her. As ready and wet as she was, there was always, at first, a dull ache when he took her, stretching her out, settling himself, but as he withdrew slightly only to enter her again, even deeper, all the pain would fade, giving way to sheer pleasure. 

She writhed beneath him even as he held himself up on his strong arms, making love to her, his eyes wide open, watching her intently. He always wanted to watch her, to see how the endless waves of pleasure flowed through her with every move they made. Still full of awe, full of wonder at what he could make her feel, that it was him who could bring her such bliss time and time again. They were so good at this, made for this, for loving each other, making love, fucking. And he never wanted it to stop.

“Oh God Jamie, harder, I need… oh God please more…please,” she moaned, whimpered, thrusted impatiently against him and clawed frantically at his arms as he set an even harder pace, hitting that spot, his pubic hair rasping her clit, making the pleasure build and build and build until the point of no return. 

The world seemed to halt for a single moment, and then everything exploded once more into white light and hot waves. She was in heaven, clenching uncontrollably around him, crying out his name. Somewhere, a distance away from the haze of her mind, she could feel how he suddenly froze, bucking against her, shaking as he spilled himself inside her. “Claire, oh God... Claire…” he was breathless, his mouth open against hers as she stole the rest of the air from his lungs.

And then everything was still. 

Still, breathing shakily in and out. 

Legs still entangled.

Him still inside her. 

But soft now, gentle. He nuzzled his face into her hair once more, caressed her overheated skin, traced a drop of sweat that had collected between her breasts with his fingertip and then kissed her with such tenderness that her heart ached. 

“I love ye mo nighean donn,” he whispered. 

“ And I am so, so sorry.”


End file.
